


Don't Let Me Down (Got a Lot Going On Right Now)

by sheron



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve is a good boyfriend, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark's Gauntlet is a Prosthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-16 09:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/pseuds/sheron
Summary: A failed chemistry experiment in the lab means Tony has to take off his gauntlet. In front of Steve. Who has never seen him without it before.





	Don't Let Me Down (Got a Lot Going On Right Now)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soniclipstick (veriscence)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veriscence/gifts).



> This was written for a specific prompt in the 2017 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange, and I think it came out fluffier than anticipated. Thanks to [vorkosigan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vorkosigan/works) for looking it over for errors. Story title is from "Hold Me" by Janine. 
> 
> Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy the story!  
> 

 

Tony hadn't even been goofing off that time, that was the thing.

It was Loki and Amora, locked in some kind of competition for who could mix chemicals faster on one of the lab benches in Professor Pym's lab. Tony was only a by-stander when the accident happened. A by-stander whose lab project was right next to theirs, and who was so focused on his own experiment that when he heard the "Watch out!" behind him, he hadn't connected the dots.

He connected them well enough when the neighbouring beaker tipped over, spilling across his workspace.

Tony was wearing a proper lab attire, white-coat and gloves, and his eyes were protected by the lab goggles, but still by the time Tony reared back, it was too late. Liquid, clear like water, splattered all over the surface of the table and soaked into the cuffs of his lab coat. He was lucky none of it splashed into his face.

"Get that lab coat off, quickly!" Pym appeared in front of him as if out of thin air. "Don't let it touch your skin."

Tony wasn't a smart guy for nothing. He knew that colourless and odorless didn't mean harmless. With his gauntlet, he pulled his lab coat off as fast as he could, throwing it on the floor, and ripped the plastic lab glove off the left hand. Thankfully, the gauntlet had protected his right arm from the chemical solution.

"Get that hand under the water." Pym was pulling him to the water fountain in the wall of the lab. 

Talk about obvious. He couldn't _feel_ anything wrong with the skin of his left hand, but he could definitely see it. Little red blotches where the liquid had soaked through the clothing. It was strange because there wasn't even any pain.

Pym thrust his left hand under the spray. "Hydrofluoric acid," he muttered. "It has a delayed pain reaction. You're going to feel the burn later."

Tony gulped.

Still, he was an old hand with lab-experiments gone awry. Some might have called him impulsive when it came to experimenting. When his dad had still been alive, he'd always tell Tony to think, _think_ before he acted, but the problem was Tony's thoughts tended to spiral when he truly thought about problems, and then he tended to lock himself in his lab to try to fix the world. He'd done a lot worse to himself than a little chemical burn, but it was all in the name of progress. If he didn't make progress, he wasn't much of an inventor, was he? When his thoughts started circling the drain like that, it was difficult to remember where it all started.

That's when Steve, with his rational and calm manner would coax him out, get him to calm down, tell him it wasn't all on Tony; they would deal with it together. 

But Steve wasn't here now, was he? 

All for the best! Steve and Natasha were getting some kind of recruitment drive ready out in the soccer field, and they'd been excused from today's classes. Tony didn't need his boyfriend to kiss it better. He was an adult, or near enough to count, and this was just a little accident, forgotten by tomorrow. 

So Tony rinsed his hand off, and patted it down with paper towels that Loki thrust his way, looking sorrier than he was willing to admit, while Amora studied her nails in the periphery.

Pym's class was nearing the end anyway, and the rest of it was taken up with his classmates crowding him, continuously asking if he was feeling okay. Normally Tony loved attention, but not this kind. He was _fine_. Pym had asked after his other arm, but Tony hurriedly assured him the gauntlet had protected him, so following a skeptical glance his way, Pym let it slide.  


 

* * *

 

A fifteen-minute break to change classes later, Tony thought maybe he had been grossly optimistic. At the edge of the gauntlet, where the skin met the metal, he felt the beginning of a burn.

He tried to ignore it at first. While his left hand had a couple of tiny red blotches, as if he'd been bitten by a bunch of angry Wasps ― he earned himself a light slap upside the head from Jan for that comparison ― that was really the extent of his injuries. The skin felt slightly uncomfortable where the jacket's material touched it, but nothing Tony couldn't push out of his mind. If his other arm was similarly affected, he could deal with it after school.

But while chemistry wasn't his primary focus, you didn't get anywhere in the weapons business without some rudimentary understanding of the subject. He knew what hydrofluoric acid was, he knew human body tended to absorb it and it interacted with blood calcium, he knew in large enough quantities it could create a chemical imbalance to cause cardiac arrest. That last one hit uncomfortably close to his already weak heart. Made it beat harshly in his chest, as his mouth dried out, little by little, picturing the worst-case scenario. That was what he did. Director Fury droned on and on about History or Philosophy, or something else that Tony had already read the whole textbook on at the start of the semester, while Tony pictured acid burning through his skin until his right arm was full of holes. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to disperse the image. It sure felt like that was what was happening, judging by the way his arm was on fire under the gauntlet.

Fury hated to be interrupted, but Tony thought he had no choice.

Tony stood, feeling all eyes jump to him. "May I be excused?"

The memory of all the shenanigans Tony had gotten up to before, you could _see_ it roll past Fury's expression.

"Why?" The Director asked. "Class just started."

Tony felt his cheeks heat up. He hadn't actually thought he'd have to explain, and the atmosphere in the expectant gaze turned to him reminded him uncomfortably of many similar experiences with Howard. He was suddenly unsure why he had stood in the first place. It didn't burn that badly; he should have just handled it like a man until the end of class. Honestly, the embarrassment stung worse than the burn.

"Well?" The Director arched a brow.

"My arm...hurts..." It sounded like a lie, even to him.

Fury's eyes didn't roll out of their socket, but it was a near thing. "Sit down," he said, before smoothly returning to his lecture.

Tony sat.

He curled his gauntlet in his lap, trying to find a better position where the sting wasn't quite so bad. 

"Hey," the whisper came from behind him. Sam. "You okay?"

Tony pasted on a smile. "I'm fine."

He studied the little red blotches on the skin of his other hand. They didn't look any worse than before, so rinsing them off with water had taken care of the problem. It would heal in a few days. Earlier in Pym's lab, he had been really worried that the acid might have hurt his fingers. He needed his fingers to work, the gauntlet on his other arm could only do so much. (Until he figured out a way to improve its precision, that is, Tony told himself firmly).

He'd worried for nothing, obviously it had turned out fine. He had to stop being a big baby, make it to the end of class somehow, then he could lock himself in the bathroom and rinse off his right arm. It wasn't great to leave it contaminated like this, Tony knew that, but it was his own dumbass fault for not thinking to rinse under the gauntlet in the break between periods. He'd been too flustered to take the gauntlet off in front of everyone. 

_Vanity_ , Tony thought, a mean streak running through his thought. But that was nothing new.

His arm hurt.

What had started as a sting, was growing in sensation with every moment. He clutched the edge of the table with his other hand, and told himself to breathe evenly. Tensing his muscles wouldn't help with the pain, it would only press the skin harder up against the metal of the gauntlet. But it was difficult to try to relax when the burning sensation in his arm was steadily growing. The lower part of his arm felt like it was on fire. 

He threw his mind to the problem of how the chemical had gotten under the gauntlet. There was no flaw with the gauntlet itself, the issue lay where metal met flesh. If he was in full armor, this wouldn't have happened. His armor made him feel invincible. A hard shell, protecting his soft and weak body. And yet he insisted on taking it off. 

Tony shook his head, to drive away the noisy, persistent thought.

He tried to picture Steve beside him, telling him it would be okay. That helped a little. 

His nervous system was going haywire, sending all kinds of signals to his brain. Everywhere the gauntlet touched his arm was pain. He tried to shift his hand, to adjust the position, but that just sent a spike of agony through the nerve endings. Tony might have whimpered a little. Was it happening? Was he really going to find deep dark holes in his arm when he took the gauntlet off later? He could feel his pulse jump, feel the blood begin to pump in his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut. He almost didn't hear Jan, beside him.

"He is obviously not okay," she cried out, and went to put her arms around him, in a half-embrace. When he forced his eyes open, her worried face was close, watching him. "Tony?"

He saw Fury's leather jacket swish in front of him, and then the Director was crouching in front of his desk. Gone was the lazy exasperation Fury typically turned his way, his eyes were piercing as they studied Tony. 

He wanted to back away from that stare, but he wouldn't give Fury the satisfaction.

Scott piped up from another desk over. "He spilled some chemicals on his hands in the last period, in Professor Pym's lab."

"It wasn't my fault," Tony pressed out. Why was everyone ganging up on him?

"Stark?" Fury was trying to get his attention, but it was hard to focus on anything except the agony in his right arm. This felt serious. This wasn't going away on its own. He couldn't wait until the next period. He needed to deal with this _now_.

"He needs to rinse his hand with water," Sam was saying from his back.

"Aww, jeez," Fury sighed.

"I know that," Tony grumbled, and made himself stand, dislodging the comfort of Jan's arms. "May I be excused?" He already knew he'd get his way. Fury had fucked up, and knew it; Tony could read it on his face. In so many ways he was exactly like Tony's dad, when Howard had still been alive. Both of them always acting like they always knew best. The satisfaction of showing him up didn't seem worth it.

He went to the door, feeling sweat beading his temples, feeling his throat dry up. By now, his arm under the gauntlet was a raw nerve. 

"I'm coming with you," Jan said, implacable in her resolve. Fury didn't even have a chance to nod before she curled her hand around Tony's other elbow and directed him out of the classroom. He could feel the stares at his back, following him, but that just made him straighten his shoulders. 

This was good, because his head was frantically going through what he knew about this type of burns, landing on nothing in particular, just flat out panicked. He didn't remember the last time it hurt like that. This felt excruciating. The world was blurry before his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to push down the threatening tears. He couldn't let the rest of the school see him like this, crying in the public hallway like a baby.

Thankfully, the washrooms were right around the corner. Jan half-dragged him there, everything passing too quickly before his eyes. He only realized she'd pulled him into the girls' washroom when they were already inside. It was humiliating, but at that point all Tony cared about was getting his arm under the stream of running water. Jan helped him pull his jacket off the arm with the gauntlet, letting it hang loosely off his left shoulder. Underneath he wore a t-shirt, so his arm was bare up to the edge of the metal. With clumsy fingers he unlocked the gauntlet, removing it. He didn't look at the skin for a moment, but he heard the sharply drawn in breath from Jan, even as he thrust the stump of his hand under water.

He whimpered. It burned like crazy.

Eventually, Tony made himself look. Besides the familiar scarring, it didn't even look that bad. Nothing like the tortures his mind had drawn up for him. Nothing terrible to look at. Just the skin at the very edge where the gauntlet ended was a circle of deep red, like a bruise. 

"Don't let Steve see me like this," he whispered.

"Oh, Tony," Jan sighed, but didn't say more.

If he thought that he would get away with it as easily as he'd gotten away with the burns on his left hand, within a few minutes under the running water, Tony realized he was kidding himself. The burning sensation wasn't increasing, which was the only positive in this scenario. He was hard pressed to say if it was better. His whole forearm felt like it was on fire, even though the icy water of the fountain in the girls' room was numbing the unblemished patches of the skin.

Tony wanted badly to curl his poor arm at his chest, in an unconsciously protective gesture, but even if he wasn't smart enough to know that would make it worse, Jan had a solid grip on his elbow, helping him hold it in place under the freezing water.

For a few minutes, the tableau remained like this, just the two of them watching water slide off the red skin of Tony's arm, while he tried not to cry from the pain. Then the door to the bathroom slammed and Sam came rushing in. 

"Got the gel from Pym," he cried, gasping for breath. "This should help counteract the acid."

Tony was determined not to allow _any_ new chemicals near his skin before he knew what they were. But the package said Calcium Gluconate, and the label specifically mentioned hydrofluoric acid, and he thought he remembered something about the chemical reaction from his studies for Pym's test. Also, at that point he was feeling a little desperate. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, telling himself to calm down.

"I also called Steve," Sam said as he unscrewed the cap from the little gel capsule.

Tony didn't even have time to react to those news, before the bathroom door slammed open again, this time hitting the neighbouring wall. Footsteps skidded to a halt behind him.

"Tony?"

He would have known those footsteps, that voice, anywhere.

"Hey, Steve," Tony muttered without turning around.

He looked at his armored gauntlet, still clutched in his other hand and wondered if he could put it on, before Steve walked around him and saw his other arm. Saw the red blotches on his skin, saw the lack of _hand_ , below the wrist.

But he knew, even if he tried, he couldn't put the gauntlet on, it would press right up against the burns again. And then it was too late.

"Oh!" was what Steve said at seeing his bare arm.

Tony pressed his lips together. He could feel Jan squeeze his elbow, trying to infuse him with courage to face up to this. He was gonna have to, eventually, anyway. He just didn't want to deal with it on top of all the other humiliations.

Steve had never seen his arm without a gauntlet before. They'd been close, they'd made out in Steve's bed, they'd even undressed each other a little bit to feel closer still, and yet now, while wearing his clothes, this was somehow the most naked he had ever felt in front of Steve. Through the pain in his arm, Tony felt the pain in his chest, a short fluttering stab of panic.

But Steve didn't turn away. 

Steve only looked worried.

"It's okay," Tony comforted him, watching those wide eyes process the shock, while Steve's mouth hung slightly open in worried surprise. 

Steve only came closer and his hand rose up, hesitating like he wanted to help but didn't know how. 

Tony flashed him a sunny smile. "I gotta put the gel Sam brought on the burns, and it'll be right as rain." 

Right as rain, he thought, a bit hysterically. What did that even mean? What was right about the rain?

Steve didn't question it. After a moment of studying the situation, he took the gel from Sam's hand and said, "Let me."

Tony tried not to flinch, but he couldn't quite hide his reaction fast enough. The thought of Steve touching him there, touching the stump of his arm... He turned his face away.

"I can do it myself," he forced out.

"Sure," Steve said. He put gentle fingers under Tony's elbow, unhesitating, unflinching. "But you don't have to. Sweetheart, let me help."

Which wasn't fair at all. 

Steve didn't use pet names, or at least not unless they were heavily into the make-out session, and it was definitely the first time he'd used one in public like this, where all their friends could hear. It wasn't something common like 'baby', either, which Tony felt could be dismissed as Steve experimenting with modern slang, not realizing its effects. ' _Sweetheart_ ' was another level entirely, it was claiming something. At least it meant something to Tony; he didn't know if it meant the same thing to Steve.

Heart squeezing in his chest, he glanced at Steve's face, but it was turned down, studying his arm carefully, thoughtfully. Steve asked, "We should apply the gel to the burns?"

"Massage it in," Sam nodded. Jan patted the skin of Tony's arm dry with a soft paper napkin to get it ready for the application of gel. It felt so strange, to have all of them hover over him like this. Uncomfortable, but not wrong. "Keep going until the pain goes away. If the pain is less, it means it's working."

"How do you feel?" Steve asked, glancing at him briefly with sharp eyes. "Did the water help?"

"A little," Tony said, fighting a bizarre urge to straighten his hair and clothes. Steve holding his arm so carefully was doing things to his insides: nice, warm and pleasant things.

"Good," Steve nodded. Steve poured a little bit of the gel on his fingertip and began stroking the skin of Tony's arm. It didn't hurt more, that was the thing. Tony had steeled himself against any yelps of pain when Steve's fingers touched the red patches on his skin, but rather than pain what he experienced was a cool, soothing sensation.

"Oh!" Tony shivered, surprised. "That's nice."

"Good, good," Sam gave a shaky sigh from the side. "You're doing good, man." Tony didn't know if he was saying that to him or to Steve. 

Steve had his tongue peeking out a little between his teeth, focusing intensely on where he was applying the calcium gel to Tony's skin. It had no right to look as adorable as it did.

"Do you feel better?" Jan asked immediately after. It was as if they all expected Tony to know his state of being from one second to the next, and to keep them updated. But the truth was, he did feel a little better, yes. He wasn't sure if it wasn't half in his head, from watching Steve act so concerned, but probably it was the gel. The burns on his skin didn't feel so raw anymore. For a while, Steve kept massaging the gel into his skin, until Tony could think about something besides the pain again.

"Did you really drag me into the girl's bathroom?" He quirked a smile at Jan.

In response, she punched his shoulder, but gently, a real love-tap, so his injured arm wouldn't move in Steve's hold.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" Steve asked. The big softie.

"Nah." 

Steve glanced down at his blotchy red skin. Tony felt his gaze travel over the stump of his wrist, like ants crawling over his skin. He pulled his arm away, holding it up against his chest with his other, mostly uninjured hand, careful not to actually brush up against his jacket.

"Pym said that the acid in the lab was heavily diluted," Tony shrugged. "It's all taken care of now."

Nearby, Sam shuffled from foot to foot. "But someone should probably look after Tony for the next twenty-four hours, in case any of it got absorbed deeply under the skin."

"Yes, someone should look after Tony for the next twenty-four hours," Jan parroted, staring significantly at the two of them.

Steve was already nodding at Jan, "I will." Was he offering to spend the night? He glanced at Tony. "If that's okay?"

"Um, yes? Yes! If you're sure?" 

Steve smiled, while Tony frantically tried to remember if he'd picked up his things from the bedroom floor that morning. Steve's room was always perfect, bedspread neatly folded as if he was preparing for a military grade inspection. Tony tended to arrange it so they mostly ended up at Steve's, instead of having to watch out for stray screwdrivers and pliers on his own floor. He never could remember how the tools ended up lying around, since usually by the time he collapsed face down on his bed, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Tony glanced at Steve through his eyelashes, hoping he at least looked cute enough to make up for being such a bother. He'd gotten some serious mileage out of that move, even if his boyfriend was starting to wise up, judging from the tiny smirk playing on Steve's mouth. Yes, Steve was definitely catching on, and he had tricks up his own sleeve. Steve was still looking at Tony with this softness in his eyes that was twisting up Tony's insides, because he couldn't put a name to that look, he wasn't sure what that was.

Tony didn't even mind when, careful not to jar his arm, Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close, and pressed a kiss to his temple. He didn't mind at _all_.  


 

* * *

 

Having the skin of his arm red and aching like that meant the gauntlet stayed off. Steve worried, and Tony felt guilty for making him miss the rest of his planned day, so in the end, they swung by Medical on the way to the dorm. Now Tony's right arm sported a glaring white bandage he wasn't supposed to take off until the next morning. It was meant to protect his skin from accidental jarring while he slept, but Tony resented the looks of it on principle. It was so undignified.

Steve, the jerk, laughed at his muttered comment. He seemed relieved Tony had allowed the trip to see an actual doctor, relaxing when they confirmed what Tony already knew: that the injured skin would heal on its own. Then they told him it would take a week. Tony had taken the news in stoic silence. A week? Without his gauntlet? He turned the matter over in his head on the way back to the dorm.

They were practically through the building's door when Tony thought of how to improve the gauntlet design to account for this obvious inefficiency.

Steve proved to be not a fan of the idea of swinging by the Stark Tower, and insisted the workshop was full of angles and sharp objects he could bump into and make the injury worse, and that Tony wasn't supposed to use his hands.

"I don't need to use my hands, baby," Tony gave him a flirty smile.

Steve stared helplessly for a moment, before sighing and giving in.

Up in the Tower, Steve occupied himself by playing with DUM-E, while Tony talked to JARVIS. After a half an hour of turning the virtual designs over in front of him, he told JARVIS to send the new electronic blueprint to the assembly. This gauntlet would hook onto his shoulder instead of the elbow joint, and a cushion of air would protect his skin. It wouldn't be a permanent replacement but it would do in a pinch, in situations like this one, if the Academy was attacked within the next week. Tony couldn't believe he hadn't thought of a backup design before. He sure would sleep better tonight, knowing it would be ready in the morning.

When he looked back over to Steve, he found his boyfriend engaged in some kind of complicated tug-of-war with DUM-E. For all his genius, Tony couldn't make heads or tails of it, it looked like some kind of a silly children's game. But DUM-E was whirring happily, and Steve was grinning, a splash of perfect white teeth.

"Shall I leave you two alone?" Tony joked, to get past the way watching them play made him feel. His heart skipped a beat when Steve looked up at him, his face bright and happy.

"Ready to go?"

Tony nodded, his nerves about having Steve back with him in his room easing, simply from seeing Steve relaxed in the workshop, the space that said more about Tony than anywhere else did. What did it matter if he was a little banged up, a little broken? Steve didn't seem to mind. He looked at Tony exactly the same way as he had before he'd seen the stump of his right hand, and if there was one thing Tony trusted it was Steve to give it to him straight when he had a problem. For a guy who came across so polite and mild-mannered, Steve sure never shied away from expressing opinions, he was a verifiable fountain of them. So Steve didn't mind. Delicately side-stepping the feeling of swooping relief in his stomach, Tony stretched out his left hand, curling his fingers around Steve's when his boyfriend took it.

Tony pulled him close up against his body, emboldened by the realization, giddy with it. This close, Steve was noticeably a few inches taller. When Tony pressed his lips to Steve's, dragging Steve's hand back, placing it around his own waist, Steve leaned into the kiss eagerly, mouth hot and wet. It was like lightning bursting behind Tony's eyelids, electricity racing up his spine. 

They kissed and kissed and kissed. The bandage pressed uncomfortably up against his skin, where he draped the arm over Steve's shoulders and tried to hold Steve tighter to him. Steve's lips moved over to his cheek, slid to his ear, peppering little kisses on the way.

"We should go back," he mumbled, breath hot against the skin of Tony's neck.

Tony opened his eyes, stroking Steve's back with his left hand almost absentmindedly, while his brain catalogued all the ways the kisses had made him feel. He could spend the rest of his life kissing Steve and not ever get bored of it.

Leaning back to look at Tony, Steve licked his own lips. They smiled at each other.

He'd done what he had come to the workshop to accomplish, so they headed home.

They made it to the dorm long after dusk had settled. When Tony winced, trying to take his jacket off and accidentally jostling his hand, Steve asked after his injured arm, then helped Tony out of the jacket, and hung it up in the closet, carefully straightening the lines so it would look fresh for Tony tomorrow. So damn sweet.

Natasha actually brought them dinner to Tony's room, which was suspiciously nice of her. She also ruffled Tony's hair on the way out, and told him to get better, which instantly made them even.

Steve stayed.

Steve stayed all evening.

They ate Chinese, sitting on the bed, and watched dumb cartoons that made Steve snort inelegantly, and if Tony curled his body into Steve, it wasn't even because Steve was warm. 

Steve was always warm. It stood to reason, Tony might have thought about this, in a vague way he didn't let himself dwell on, in case... Things happened. People changed their minds. Even Steve, who was as stubborn as a bull once he'd made up his. Tony might have wanted to be doing exactly what they were doing, curled up on the bed together, laying high on the pillows, one of Steve's hands in Tony's hair, and never said. Like this, he could forget about his injured arm where it lay across his stomach, no longer aching as long as he didn't move. His eyes fluttered shut.

What felt like an instant later, he had an _awesome_ idea for improving the code on the blasting range, making it more robust. Tony jerked his head up from where he had been using Steve as a pillow. His mind ran through the lines of code and the next thing he knew he was half-sitting up, eyes wide with excitement.

"What is it?" Steve asked softly, still laying back on the pillows. He kept on playing with the strands of Tony's hair at the nape of the neck with his strong fingers. Steve's hands were very soft. Unlike Tony, he had no cuts on them, no rough calluses. That soft, soft skin probably had something to do with the serum. Tony stared at the opposite wall, trying to burn the idea for the blasting range into his memory while it was fresh. Steve murmured, with a sigh of sleepy contentment, "Do you want to do something else?"

Tony glanced back at his boyfriend. Steve didn't look unwilling or disappointed. Only curious.

Tony could dictate his ideas to JARVIS, it would only take a couple of hours. If he didn't do it now, the perfect solution could slip away, get lost among the myriad of ideas he had every evening as he fell asleep, and didn't recall upon waking. That's why Tony tried not to waste too much time sleeping...

But as he looked down at Steve, sweet and warm next to him, studying him with that patient expression, a fond half-smile playing on his lips, Tony thought: not now. Not for this. He wouldn't have traded this moment with Steve for any perfect code, for any great invention.

Tony lay down again, setting his head back on Steve's shoulder.

"Nah," he said, snuggling deeper into Steve's embrace, hearing the satisfied sigh from the body next to his. "I'm good."

 

**Fin.**


End file.
